


Lifetime Warranty

by HomicidalHunter



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Action, Anxiety, Awkwardness, Depression, Detectives, Developing Relationship, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Investigations, Kissing, M/M, Major Character Injury, Nightmares, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Police, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Suspense, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-27 23:57:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15696006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HomicidalHunter/pseuds/HomicidalHunter
Summary: When Gavin and his new partner are assigned to a case involving the city’s most influential news station, they find themselves investigating a serial killer. The complexity of the investigation has them desperately searching for suspects in a maze full of clues, with no clear answers.The seasoned detective starts to rely on his counterpart, and the two of them slowly start to realize that they need eachother. Not only to solve this case, but to get through it alive and well.





	1. Chapter One

    Following Hank Anderson’s gaze leads directly into Captain Fowler’s office, which is situated in the middle of the Detroit Police Department. Hank usually tries his best to ignore anything involving the man, but opposite of him stands Detective Gavin Reed, whose outrage can be heard through the entire precinct. In other words, there’s a shitshow going down, and Hank has the best seat in the house. Even though He usually doesn’t show up until after noon- and it isn’t even nine yet- he’s been forced to change some habits because of Connor, and for once he’s grateful. If he hadn’t hadn’t arrived when he did, then he would have missed the action, but he’d certainly hear about it, and then he’d be pissed that he wasn’t there to see it himself.

    So instead of dealing with the giant stack of paperwork situated in the corner of his desk, he’s decided to ignore everything that doesn’t involve detective Reed trying to get fired. He’s got his chair spun around so that his back is turned to the computer, and his feet are kicked up on the empty desk in front of him. His arms are folded over his chest, and his mouth is curled into a shit-eating grin that makes the typically grumpy old man look like he’s lost his mind. A majority of the officers wandering around seem much less entertained than he does- a select few even annoyed by such an interruption- but heads still spin every time Gavin shouts something especially profane. Most of the words spilling from his mouth are inaudible to everyone except Fowler himself, but judging by the ones that are occasionally loud enough to make out, he doesn’t care if he loses his job. And Hank loves it. He’s taken note of multiple f-bombs, along with several other curses, and even a c-word. Although he’d never admit it, the lieutenant is almost impressed by his coworker’s vocabulary, and if the man weren’t such an asshole, he’d probably applaud him. He dislikes Fowler just as much as everyone else does, but even he wouldn’t have enough balls to call the man a cunt. Gavin doesn’t seem to give a shit, though, because he’s standing in the middle of that office throwing his hands around like an angry politician, all while spewing every word in the book.

    As to  _ why _ he’s doing so, Hank is nearly as clueless as everyone else in the precinct. But he does have a theory; an idea that specifically involves the rk900 model- an android that goes by the name of Richard- looming over Gavin’s desk space. Hank’s almost certain that the android has been assigned as Gavin’s partner, and if true, he can only imagine how much more hectic the precinct is going to be. Gavin’s anger issues and hatred for sentient machines will not mix well with android interaction. In fact, the detective hates androids so much that he’d probably quit his job on the spot before accepting the inevitable assistance of what he refers to as a “glorified chunk of metal". Hank’s theory could be wrong of course- He’s seen the man get upset over less- but he’s honestly never seen Gavin get  _ this  _ loud. Plus, Richard seems too interested in Gavin’s personal belongings to not be involved with him somehow.

    “Hey, Rich!” Hank turns his attention across the room, gaining the androids attention. When he turns his head, the old man waves. “What the Hell’s goin’ on in there?” The old man says with a finger pointed in the general direction of Fowler’s office.

    “I’m not entirely sure,” Richard replies, “I was told to wait here until Captain Fowler discusses something with Detective Reed. I hope I’m not in any trouble.” Hank waves a dismissive hand in the air before folding his arms again.

    “I think Gavin’s the one in trouble,” He mutters with a playful smirk. Richard cocks his head to the side, raising an inquisitive brow. He returns to scanning Gavin’s belongings, simply curious. He’s met the detective before, and he knows that the man is quite unpleasant, but he's formulated the same theory as Hank, and he’s hoping to find something that will make his new partnership less difficult. Finding something to bond over is difficult, however, because Reed’s desk is devoid of any personal items. The only clue about Gavin's personal life is the leather jacket slung over his desk chair. The material is visibly worn, which tells him nothing more than the fact that it's worn quite often. It makes the detective look even less personable, because every other officer has some sort of decor on their desk. A picture of a family member, or at least a post-it note with some sort of reminder stuck to their computer monitor. Even Connor has a framed portrait on his desk. It’s a picture of Hank and Sumo- much to Hank’s annoyance- but at least it’s  _ something _ . The only thing on Gavin’s desk is an empty coffee cup and a half-eaten cup of noodles.

    “ _ This is fuckin bullshit, and you know it _ !” Gavin bellows as he rushes out of Fowler’s office in a tantrum. Connor makes his way towards Hank with a fresh cup of coffee as Gavin furiously stomps past Hank’s desk. The irate detective deliberately shoves a shoulder into Connor so hard that the android is thrown backwards and forced to catch himself on the edge of his own desk. The coffee in his hand is thrown onto the ground, the lid snapping off as hot coffee splatters onto the floor, spraying the shoes of another officer seated nearby. There’s a disgruntled shout followed by some muttered aggravation, but Connor is too focused on Gavin to notice. He looks up at the cold blue eyes glaring down at him, and then down at a threatening hand as fingers grasp onto the collar of his shirt, lifting him onto his feet. Hank snaps his head around.

    “Watch where you’re going,” Gavin growls. Connor stares up at him with a blank look, purposely remaining silent in an attempt to stifle violence. Before Gavin has a chance to react, Hank is on his feet holding the gun holstered at his waist.

    “Don’t start your shit,” Hank rasps, “Or I’ll kick your fuckin’ ass. Trust me, Reed. I’ve done it before.” He looks the shorter brunette straight in his eyes and uses his thumb to unclip the holster on his waist, as if silently daring him to make a move. His eyes stay glued to the man as a moment of silence lingers in the air. Harsh blue eyes dart toward him, followed by an irritated sneer. After Gavin drops his arm, Hank slowly removes his hand from the pistol nestled against his hip. He covers his weapon with the bottom hem of his loose Hawaiian shirt, and Gavin just stands there, staring at Connor with his tongue tucked into his cheek. The detective huffs, shoving Connor backwards as he turns to walk off. Hank squints at the man, and then turns his attention back to Connor, who is readjusting the collar of his pale green button-down shirt.

    “Don’t forget to clean up your fucking mess,” Gavin says pointedly as he kicks the empty coffee cup against a desk. He makes sure to step through the puddle of brown and track it even further, sending a smug glance back at Connor as he does so. Connor furrows his brow, both confused and perturbed by the man’s heightened hostility. He feels a heavy hand on his shoulder and jerks his attention to Hank, whose lips are split into an apologetic half-grin. The older man asks him if he is okay, and he simply nods, slowly turning his focus toward detective Reed’s desk as the hand on his shoulder slips away. He watches Gavin march up to his desk chair and violently jerk his jacket off the back of it, giving the nearby rk900 model a dirty look as he turns to leave. The android steps towards him, saying something inaudible that manages to earn another string of obnoxious profanities from the man he’s talking to. When he gives Gavin a stern look and says something in an aggravated tone of voice, the detective stops walking just so he can threaten him.

    “Try to tell me what to do one more time,” He growls through gritted teeth, “And I’ll put a fucking bullet through that computer that you call a brain. Got it? I’ve never worked with one of you bastards before, and I am not about to start now just because some dumbass government officials were stupid enough to give you rights.” He glares daggers at Richard, and the android doesn’t respond. Instead, he stands there with a blank look on his face, as if unsure of how to respond. After a moment of silence, Gavin scoffs, walking off without so much as another word. Richard hesitantly follows, furrowing his brow indignantly. Gavin shoves his way through the security doors leading into the front of the building, and then marches outside, making a sharp turn as he shoves his arms into his jacket. He shrugs the leather over his shoulders, then reaches into the breast pocket and pulls out a pack of cheap cigarettes, packing the unopened box against his palm before ripping off the plastic wrap and flipping the lid open. He tosses the plastic in his hand, and then rips off the foil covering the cigarette butts, throwing that on the ground as well. He plucks two cigarettes out and shoves them upside down in the box before pulling out a third one and stuffing the box into its rightful place against his chest.

    Reaching into the pocket of his blue jeans, he pulls out a lighter. He stuffs the orange butt of his cigarette between his chapped lips, and then side-steps, turning to face the brick building next to him so that he can avoid any wind. With a flick of his thumb, he ignites a small flame atop the thick metal lighter in his hand. He holds it against the tip of his cigarette and inhales until the paper burns evenly. After he shoves the lighter back into his pocket, he takes a long drag on his cigarette and exhales, leaving a trail of smoke in the air above him. A deep sigh escapes the back of his throat, and he leans sideways against the building, holding the cigarette in front of him as he uses his free hand to massage his aching temple. A cool breeze wafts against him, and he huddles in on himself, shivering before the sudden intake of nicotine starts to help him relax.

    “There are exactly forty-three different carcinogens in that single cigarette,” Says a calm voice from behind him, “As well as four hundred different toxins that are detrimental to the human body’s immune system. You really shouldn’t do that.” Gavin spins around and stumbles back, caught off-guard by how close Richard is. His eyes study the uniformed android from head to toe, and a disgusted grunt escapes the back of his throat. The taller individual gives him a forced smile, as if trying to remain pleasant. He offers his hand and begins to introduce himself, but before he has a chance to finish his sentence, Gavin smacks the offered appendage and walks off. The unruly detective continues to suck on his cigarette, mumbling various curses as he picks up his pace. Richard frowns, growing impatient with the man. He continues to pursue him out of sheer responsibility, but he finds himself wishing that he had been paired up with someone else. Anyone else.

    Gavin turns onto an adjacent street and continues walking, stepping into a large parking deck on the corner of the street. When he glances back to find the android persistently tailing a few feet behind him, he spins around and walks up to the tall machine, forcefully shoving it. The rk900 has to catch himself by planting a firm foot on the ground, but he doesn’t seem fazed. When Gavin swings a fist at him, he reflexively catches the assault with his hand, only wavering once the man pulls a pistol out of the holster on his jeans. Before he has a chance to react, he’s staring down a gun barrel, with Gavin Reed glaring daggers at him from the other side of it. The detective jerks his other hand free and takes a step back, steadying himself as he extends his arm out. His thumb flicks the gun hammer down, and his forefinger nestles firmly on the trigger.

    “I’ll shut you down for good if you don’t fuck off and-" Richard's arm shoots up without warning, his hand wrapping around Gavin’s wrist as he jerks it to the side and takes a large step forward. The gun goes off, echoing through the enclosure surrounding them. Gavin shouts something inaudible, letting out a shrill yelp as the robot in front of him twists his arm, folding it upwards and planting it firmly against his back. His head is jerked back with a handful of his hair, and his knee is simultaneously kicked out from under him, forcing him to collapse. The tall brunette behind him leans forward to speak directly into his ear, tightening the grip on his hair while he does so.

    “Did you know that all androids are programmed with a feature that allows them to quickly adapt for human unpredictability?” Gavin struggles underneath him, attempting to push away with his free arm while he yanks his head forward as much as he can without ripping his own hair out.

    “Get the fuck-" The grip on his hair disappears, replaced by a firm hold on his throat.

    “Originally, the coding was put in to counteract any unseemly behavior that could occur between humans and the androids under their charge. However, my model was originally built for police work and criminal investigation; I am equipped with a plethora of knowledge involving disengagement of an assailant utilizing both long-range assaults and hand-to hand combat. I highly suggest that you keep that in mind the next time you think about threatening me.”  Richard speaks in a low, threatening tone of voice. He’s pissed off at this point, and the only thing keeping him from breaking Gavin’s arm is the fact that he’ll be dismissed from the Detroit Police Force if he does anything unnecessarily violent. Although he finds it highly unlikely that anyone would care if the man was injured.

    “You think you’re tough?” Gavin chuckles sardonically, “You have no idea what I can get away with. I can’t wait. You’re as good as scrap metal, tin can. _I’m going to bury you_.” The rk900 looks down at him with a stern expression.

    “I need you to calm down,” He says through gritted teeth. Gavin grasps at the hand connected to him, attempting to pry it off.

    “ _ I am calm _ !” He shouts, pulling a foot out from underneath him and using it to kick a leg as hard as he can. The action does nothing, however, and he groans in frustration.

    “Your heart rate says otherwise. I won’t say it again, detective. Either you calm down, or I will snap your forearm in half.” It’s a blatant lie on Richard’s behalf, but Gavin seems convinced. The detective hides his fear rather well, but his heart starts pounding even faster. His anger is immediately replaced by fear, and he starts to panic, because he genuinely believes that the robot will break his arm if his heart rate doesn’t slow down. He opens his mouth to say something, but his own stubbornness holds him back from voicing any concern, and instead he tries to focus on calming himself down. Richard hesitates to react, but he realizes that the detective is no longer a threat to him once he registers his spike in anxiety, so he loosens his grip on the shorter man’s neck. He patiently waits for the man to calm down, but he doesn’t. His heart continues to pound at an increasing rate, and when Gavin tenses underneath him, he instinctively tightens his grip again.

    “Fucking break it,” Gavin rasps, his jaw clenched as he prepares for the pain. He refuses to show weakness, so he forces himself to accept the fact that he has no choice. His only comfort is knowing that he’s experienced pain much worse before. Richard gives him a crazy look, of course, taken aback by his stubbornness. Sure, he knew the man was headstrong, but he never expected him to choose pain over something as superficial as accepting defeat. He felt the man tense up, so he can tell that he’s dead serious, too. And even though he’s tempted to go through with it, he can’t risk losing his job, so he ends up letting go. The detective scrambles forward, jumping onto his feet before his new partner has a chance to grab him again.

    “I knew you didn’t have the balls,” He lies, brushing himself off. Richard stands up and steadies himself, grimacing. The man’s newfound cockiness makes him regret not breaking his arm, and his hand twitches impatiently. Gavin looks up at the android, somewhat unsure of what he wants to say next. The rk900 gives him a premonitory glare, as if expecting an insult. There’s an awkward moment between them as the detective stands there, obviously too wary to make a smart remark even though he instinctively wants to. Richard can still read his heart rate, so at least he’s able to reassure himself that he was able to make an impact. The corner of his mouth twitches upwards, and Gavin squints at him, turning to leave.

    “Just so you know,” He says as Richard follows him outside, “I haven’t slept in three days, so that’s the only reason you got an upper hand on me. And anyways, I’m  _ only _ working with you because I don’t have a damn choice. I’m your boss, though. I’m in charge, and you do as I say.”

    “I will respect that you are my superior officer,” Richard says, choosing his words carefully. He refuses to give the man full control over his actions, but he does have to take orders from him since he’s more experienced, so he settles for accepting his inferiority. He even tries to smile, but he ends up looking constipated. Gavin scoffs at him, and his expression turns dry.

    “It’s a pleasure to work with you,” Richard says, his voice bathed in sarcasm as he speaks.

    “Yeah. You’re real fucking funny.” The shorter man turns onto a sidewalk, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Richard gives him a confused look and glances back, well-aware of the fact that they’re heading in the opposite direction of the police station. When he turns his attention back to Gavin and opens his mouth to say something, he’s interrupted by new knowledge of a crime scene discovered five blocks away from them. He comes to an abrupt halt and closes his eyes for a brief second, registering the information.

    “Detective,” He says calmly as his eyes peel open, “I’ve just received a report from the station requesting units at the KNN filming studio.” Gavin stops walking and spins around, giving him a bewildered expression. He’s clearly caught off-guard by the android’s ability to receive information directly, but he doesn’t waste any time questioning it. He gestures for more information, expecting the android to explain further.

    “An emergency phone call was received from a distressed reporter who discovered her male co-worker mutilated in his office,” Richard explains, “Nobody has arrived on the scene yet, but all criminal investigative officers are requested. I suggest that we head there.” Gavin curses, reluctantly agreeing before turning back to the parking garage. Richard follows him over to a bright red dodge, sweeping his eyes over the sleek automobile as Gavin pops open the driver’s side door. Gavin climbs into the car and slams his door shut. Richard snaps back and grabs the passenger side door. He swings it wide open, stepping inside before pulling the door shut beside him. After Gavin starts the car, he pulls it into gear and hits the gas, throwing the vehicle backwards. He steps on the break and puts the vehicle into drive, speeding out of the building as he flips on the flashing light bars situated against his back window and windshield.

    As they drive, Richard sits silently, studying the interior of the vehicle. Everything on the inside of the car looks almost new, and he can tell that the man next to him has put a lot of effort into it. The dashboard- as well as the molded plastic covering the doors- is covered in a thin layer of dark grey leather. The fabric is older, but obviously polished on a regular basis. Richard drags his palm over the seat underneath him, which is the same color as the leather next to him. This covering is much newer, however, with no visible cracks or wearing in it. The edges are lined with a strip of dark crimson, and When Richard turns to look at the back seats, he finds that they are the same. Seeing that they look as pristine as the front- if not more- he wonders if anyone has ever sat on them. He then finds himself curious as to whether or not his partner has any friends. When he turns his attention to Gavin, the man glances over at him.

    “Yeah,” He says, “I like my car. You get any dirt in here, and I’ll fucking figure out how to make you feel pain.” Richard looks up at the dashboard, examining the modern radio. It’s a touch-screen with built-in holographics and voice recognition abilities. The original fiberglass dashboard build wouldn’t have been able to fit it, but Gavin has cut out a square large enough to install the radio, replacing the old radio cover with a new fiberglass square that he’s coated in a marbled red and silver resin. Everything in the car has been thought of with care and precision. It’s kind of ironic once Richard thinks of it. The man loves a machine that can’t even move by itself, but has nothing except hatred for a machine that can think for itself.

    “Did you do all of this by yourself?” Richard asks, genuinely curious. Gavin parks, putting the car into gear before yanking his keys out of the ignition.

    “We’re here,” He says, ignoring the android’s question. Richard watches him exit the car, and then does the same, following him up to a building surrounded by reporters. The crowd is blocked off by a holographic crime scene border, but police are still stationed around the perimeter to make sure that nobody tries sneaking through. Gavin scoffs at the obnoxious men and women, shoving one of them aside. The young woman shouts something inaudible, and Richard gives her a dirty look. She looks up at him and backs away, spooked by his intimidating presence. He walks off, forcing his way through the crowd just as Gavin did. Once he's in front of the crowd, he looks up at the giant tower looming over him. The building is seven stories tall, consisting of three different complexes. The exterior is a steel finish with various windows lining all seven floors, the windows lined in a dark metal frame. The glass is tinted so that citizens can't see into the building from outside, and the scaffold carriage dangling on the side of the building is used to keep the surface clean in order to maintain a pristine appearance. The architecture is simple, yet bold; a clear reflection of the company's status as a whole. Richard hastily gathers all of the information he can about KNN. He nods to himself, and then looks around for Gavin, finding the detective on the other side of the police barrier. He's talking to a dark-skinned man registered as Seargent Kent Hayworth. 

    “Are there any witnesses?” Richard interrupts, gaining the attention of both men. The uniformed officer points at an ambulance parked in front of the main doors of the building, explaining that the victim is still alive. Richard dismisses himself to interrogate the man, but Gavin grabs him arm as soon as he turns to leave.

    “You aren’t doing shit,” He says, “You’re here to examine the crime scene. I don’t need you freaking out the only witness that we have.” He turns back to the officer and apologizes on behalf of his “useless tin can,” walking off towards the ambulance after telling Richard to find out where the victim was discovered. Richard gives him an annoyed look as he walks off, and the nearby officer apologizes for his behavior.

    “Don’t take it to heart, kid. He’s just… well, nobody really knows why the man is such an insufferable jackass,” The officer chuckles heartily before continuing to speak, “But Reed don’t like anyone, boy, so it isn’t just you.” He gives Richard a playful punch in the shoulder, and Richard shrugs, glancing over at his partner as the man steps into a nearby ambulance. He sweeps his eyes over the crowd huddled next to him, and then turns back to the man conversing with him.

    “You’re right about one thing,” He replies, “He’s not a pleasant person. But I assure you, he most definitely hates me more than anyone else. I can’t say I feel any different about him.” The man in front of him laughs once more, wholeheartedly amused. When he gives the individual a weird look, he receives a dismissive wave in response. The officer turns to point at a pair of double doors labeled for employees only, explaining that the doors lead into a corridor. He says that the corridor leads directly into a recording studio, and that the double doors on the far side of the studio lead to another corridor lined with elevators. Taking an elevator up to the third floor brings you to a giant conference room, and every door in the conference room is an entrance to one of the newscaster’s offices. The victim’s name is James Montgomery, which will be displayed on the door of his personal office.

    “I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job,” The cop continues, “But the forensics team hasn’t gotten here yet. So make sure you don’t put anything out of place. I’d hate for you to get chewed out by your partner. Again.” Richard manages a grin, politely thanking the man for his time before walking off. A few reporters shout requests for information at him as he passes, but he tries his best to ignore them, giving nothing more than a few glances in their general direction. He pushes his way through the double doors that he was directed toward, briskly walking down the hall as he scans the area around him. Once he reaches the recording studio at the end, he takes a brief moment to look around. The crime scene is his main concern, of course, but gaining a full understanding of his surroundings could help him better interpret what happened. He decides to start with the central focus of the work space, making his way over to the stage at the back of the room.

    In the middle of the stage stands a tall curved desk- the foreground that journalists sit behind while giving a report. Behind the desk is three different stools. Richard swivels each stool around as he passes by, reflexively stumbling backwards as he spins the third one around. On the seat of that particular chair sits what appears to be a chunk of bloody human flesh. Richard stares at the discovery for a moment, hesitant to get any closer. When he does finally step forward, he crouches down to examine the evidence closer. He squints at the bloodied mess, reaching toward it without thinking. The officer’s advice from earlier-  _ make sure you don’t put anything out of place- _ echoes through his head, and he quickly recoils. He hesitates for another moment, and then brings his arm up once more, cautiously dipping his pinky in the pool of blood that has formed on the seat. He slips his finger into his mouth and searches for a DNA match in his database, but to no avail. After dropping his arm, he stands up and sweeps his eyes around the room before him. His gaze settles on the various cameras situated in front of the stage, and then he discovers multiple security cameras lining the far wall. He makes a mental note of them, and then walks around the desk in front of him, making his way towards the doors that lead out of the room. He pushes through, walking up to an elevator. He pushes the button pointing upwards, waits for the elevator to arrive, and then steps into the elevator and pushes the button with a number three painted onto it.

    Once he’s arrived on the third floor, he steps out of the elevator and drags his eyes over every detail of the room in front of him. The large desk in the middle of the room is surrounded by several swivel chairs, each of them tucked neatly under the slab of thick oak in front of them. Richard walks over to the only chair with a folder in front of it, picking the lime green portfolio up from the desk. He holds it in front of him with one hand, flipping it open with his other. On the inside he finds a stack of papers covered in words, which further investigation reveals are scripted lines involving the weather forecast that aired earlier that morning. He flips through the paperwork until a much smaller note slips out, falling onto the ground at his feet. Richard smacks the folder shut and haphazardly tosses it back on the table, bending down to pick up the paper that had escaped it’s hiding spot. Once he picks the note up, he reads it aloud to himself.

    “Meeting with Wilson. Five o' clock.” It’s only six, so if the meeting was meant for today, then it happened less than two hours ago. Richard realizes that he might have just unlocked an important key to the case, so he quickly stuffs the note into his breast pocket, registering it’s information for later. He stands up and readjusts his belt, tucking the back of his police-issued uniform shirt further into his pants. He checks the nameplates centered on each door in the room, his eyes settling on the second door to his left. He marches up to the door, standing in front of the slab of wood as he scrutinizes it, gently pushing it open since it’s sitting ajar. As the hinges whine, Richard steps forward, widening his eyes at the gory display in front of him. He focuses on the large bloodstain in the middle of the carpet, folding his hands behind his back as he takes a moment to process everything. The light brown carpet is saturated in crimson. At least two pints of fresh blood. He can hardly believe that the victim survived his attack after losing so much blood. The abundance of crimson is so thick that most of it hasn’t even soaked entirely into the fabric underneath it, and there’s even more of the bodily fluid scattered throughout the room. The desk against the right wall has bloody handprints smeared along the edges, the window on the far wall has a blotch of red on it that looks as if someone had violently thrown a bloody rag at it, the wall on the left side of the room is covered in blood splatter, and there’s trace amounts of blood on a length of rope that has been discarded in the nearby trash bin.

    With so much evidence to file, Richard decides to start with the most prominent. He steps up to the puddle in the middle of the room and unfolds his hands, taking a knee next to the bright red stain before him. He dips his forefinger into the blood and brings his arm up, wiping the tip of his bloodied finger against his tongue. He still doesn’t find a DNA match, but he does connect DNA coding to the same person whose flesh was sitting in the recording studio. He nods to himself and stands up, turning his attention elsewhere. Before he has a chance to do anything else, he’s interrupted by a knock on the door. He turns around to find a group of people wearing white hazmat suits. The woman closest to him holds up an identification badge connected to the lanyard around her neck.

    “Forensics,” She says, “We’re here to collect any evidence. It’d be much easier if you’d step out for the time being.” Richard nods in agreement, informing her of his first discovery in the studio. She quickly dismisses one of the men behind her to investigate further, and Richard excuses himself from the room, asking her to let him know when the team is finished with their work. She politely obliges, and he holds his hand up, reaching into his breast pocket with the other. Pulling out the note from earlier, he hands it to the woman in front of him, requesting that she bags it as evidence. She gives a curt nod, and he walks out of the room, startled when Gavin materializes in front of him.

    “Well, dipshit?” The detective greets him with, “Get anything useful?” He looks up at the android with a disinterested expression plastered on his face, and Richard stifles a smug grin.

     “Nothing,” He says in a sarcastic tone of voice, “I couldn’t find anything. I did locate an important piece of evidence in the recording studio, and I did manage to collect information that could lead to a possible suspect, but other than that I’m afraid to say that I am in fact as useless as you say I am. So very sorry, detective.”


	2. Chapter Two

    When Richard arrives at work the next morning, he finds Gavin sound asleep. The detective is sitting in his chair with his hands folded over his abdomen, feet kicked up on the desk in front of him. His head is thrown back with a day-old newspaper covering his face, and the fact that he’s still wearing yesterday’s outfit means he probably didn’t go home last night. His computer monitor is on, as well, displaying a list of criminal records. Richard glances down at the evidence on Gavin’s desk, walks around and picks his newspaper up, tossing it aside. He says the detective’s name out loud as an attempt to wake him, but receives no reaction. He gives the slumbering man a gentle nudge, repeating his name. After another lack of response, he then leans down, shouting his name out in a bold exclamation. Gavin wakes up with a start, bolting forward so fast that his chair rolls out from under him. He falls off of the seat and smacks against the ground, his body folded at a near 180 degree angle because of his feet on the desk in front of him. A string of profanity escapes his mouth, followed by a muttered slur directed towards his partner. Richard stands next to the man with a wide grin on his face, and Gavin glowers at him. Once the detective is on his feet, he holds up a middle finger before sitting down again. He takes a moment to collect himself, clears his throat, and then pulls his chair forward, typing something into his keyboard. 

    Richard silently watches the computer monitor as it reveals another list of criminal records. His eyes dart down to Gavin, and then land on the evidence pile in front of him. Curious, he walks around to the front of the desk, examining Gavin’s research. A specific photograph catches his attention, so he lifts it up to look closer. In the middle of the picture sits a chunk of human flesh, covered in blood that pools around it. When he pulls out the piece of paper fastened to the back of the picture with a paperclip, he finds himself slightly disturbed. He’s also somewhat disgusted, as well as confused. After staring at the picture for another solid minute, he forces himself to drop it, giving Gavin a look of bewilderment. Gavin continues to focus on his computer, but he does register Richard’s expression in the corner of his eye. He nods his head and confirms the evidence, explaining that it was in fact a mutilated pair of human testicles. He starts to make a joke about BDSM, but he trails off halfway through it. Richard gives him a blank look, and then turns his attention to the remaining evidence scattered across Gavin’s desk. He picks up a small plastic bag holding the note that he’d found, and then picks up a piece of paper with his other hand. Holding the two side-by-side, he absentmindedly asks his partner for any theories.

    “We’re technically looking at a sex crime because of the whole balls-chopped-off thing, so I really don’t know where to start.” Gavin sounds surprisingly calm when he speaks, and it catches Richard off-guard. He knows the lack of attitude is simply due to his partner’s exhaustion, but he’s still relieved by it. He decides to take advantage of the situation, grabbing a nearby chair. He rolls it over to the front of Gavin’s desk, sits down, and continues to rifle through the details in front of him. “These things are never easy,” Gavin resumes “The victim always refuses to cooperate, so we get less information than we would if we at least had a dead body to look at. Fuck, this whole damn thing is a mess. Nothing makes sense, the guy won’t talk to me, and I’ve got KNN up my ass about bad publicity. They want answers that I don’t have.” After he finishes talking, he buries his face in his hands and releases an irritated groan. He rasps something inaudible, and then orders Richard to get him a coffee. Richard gives him an offended look and tells him to get his own coffee, to which Gavin calls him useless. The detective gives him a dirty look, and then sits up and throws his head back, staring up at the ceiling while thinks to himself.

    “Have you been here all night?” Richard asks. Gavin sighs, shrugging his shoulders. He stretches his arms out and yawns, slumping forward afterwards. Richard studies him for a moment, registering the bags under his eyes and the scruff forming on his jawline. He finds himself wondering how long the man had been able to sleep before he arrived. He then ponders whether his slumber was even deliberate. After assuming that Gavin most likely dozed off while doing research, he can’t help but be impressed. Gavin’s stubborn, but his stubbornness can apparently turn into determination whenever necessary. Richard turns his attention back to the clues in front of him, furrowing his brow as he searches for something that could help progress their case. The photocopy in his left hand is a company newsletter that the forensic team found balled up in a trash bin. The first paragraph is nothing but viewer percentages and business reports, but the second paragraph is worded more personally, as if meant for one specific person to read. The sentences go into detail about someone sending death threats, and the letter is signed with four words-  _ get rid of it. _ Richard re-reads the letter, and then bolts upright, excitedly pointing out a possible clue on the bottom of the page.

    “Bill!” He exclaims, “Maybe Bill is short for Wilson.” Gavin gives him a flat look at first, but he perks up as soon as his groggy brain manages to register the connection. He leans forward and snatches the paper out of Richard’s hand, holding it up to read it. On the bottom of the page- exactly where Richard had pointed- there’s a signature in dark blue ink. Underneath the signature is a neatly typed full name- Bill K. Martin. Gavin’s eyes widen, as if he can barely believe the words written in front of him. He smacks the paper down in front of him and turns to his computer, rapidly typing the name into his database. The search comes up empty, so he opens an internet tab and decides to search Google. Richard watches his fingers effortlessly glide over the keyboard, coming to a halt only after hitting the enter button. A suspenseful moment lingers between them as google yields several hundred results. Gavin leans even closer to the monitor, scanning it as he scrolls through links to several various news articles.

    “Detective Reed?” Richard says, giving his partner an impatient look as he sits on the edge of his seat. “Who is he?” Gavin sits up and takes a deep breath, spinning the monitor around. He points at the most visited link on the top of the screen, his lips curling into a crooked grin.

    “This bastard’s a woman,” He chuckles, “And she’s isn’t a Wilson, but get this. She’s the CEO of KNN, and  _ she’s married to our victim."  _ Richard leans closer and raises an inquisitive eyebrow, folding his hands on the surface between them.

    “If someone was after Mr. Montgomery,” Richard speculates, “And she knew about it, then she might know who Wilson is.” Gavin sits back and waves his hands in the air between them. He stares off in the distance, his eyes unfocused as he mulls something over in his head. Richard looks down and shuffles through the papers on Gavin’s desk, picking up an evidence bag with a framed photograph inside. The picture portrays a happy group of people huddled together in a park, all of them smiling widely as they wait for the snap of a camera shutter. In the middle of the group is James Montgomery, dressed in what appears to be a soccer uniform. The two men on either side of him are also wearing uniforms. Richard is able to identify them both as employees of the same company James works at, and the woman on the far left is Billy Watson. She’s wearing a pale yellow sundress and holding a soccer ball in the air, her expression triumphant. On the opposite side of the picture is a slightly younger male, whose wearing a uniform identical to the other three men. Richard recognizes him as an android, though- series WLSN02. The model is an older prototype, originally created for housework and daily chores. Richard inwardly searches through various sources on the internet, closing his eyes as he collects data on the people in the image.

    Within seconds, he learns that the men in the picture have all worked at KNN for seven years.The taller man on the right side of the picture is Gordon Smith, a well-known thirty-seven year old that reports local weather. He’s a broad-shouldered individual known for his charm, and the paparazzi commonly find him with Cedric Mackey, the lean redhead on the left side of the picture. Cedric is extremely popular for his well-known sports broadcasting every Sunday morning. The older man is forty-three, but he’s favored by both men and women. He keeps his long hair pulled back in a messy bun, and his bank statement reveals several purchases for dress suits that are tailored at Kelly Robertson's, the most expensive suit shop in New York City. His freckled skin pales in comparison to the android standing next to him. The WLSN02 is registered as Douglass, and his caramel-colored flesh makes the silvery green eyes set into his skull look like they are glowing. They aren’t, of course, but they do look even brighter than normal since they’re set deep into his face, surrounded by dark circles. The android is employed by KNN, as well, but most likely so due to his previous servitude in the Montgomery household.

    “It just doesn’t make sense,” Gavin grumbles as Richard peels his eyes open, “She’s refusing to cooperate with the police, even though her husband was nearly killed. Either she doesn’t care for the bastard as much as she lets on, or she’s hiding something even worse than what happened to him.” Richard drops the picture frame and nods in agreement. He glances down at the smiling faces staring up at him, and then looks at Gavin again, finding the man half-asleep with his head balanced on his arm. An amused chaff slips out from his lips, and he slowly lifts himself onto his feet, trying his best not to disturb the man. Gavin’s eyes pop open, looking up at the android with a surprised expression.

    “Apologies,” Richard says, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”  Gavin sits up and yawns again, giving him a suspicious look. He shifts in his seat and leans sideways, yawning a third time before he finally musters the strength to stand up. He pushes his seat back and places his palms flat against his lower back, stretching until an audible crack pops in his upper vertebrae.

    “And where the hell do you think you’re going?” He says as he straightens up. Richard manages a soft smile, but since he’s still inexperienced with the detective, his facial expression looks extremely forced. 

    “You should go home,” He insists, “You need to rest.” There’s a hint of concern in his voice as he speaks, and he’s trying to be genuinely earnest, but Gavin makes it difficult when he replies with nothing but a dirty look. It's understandable that the detective would hold a grudge against him because of their fight the day before, but Richard doesn't innately hate him, and he wants to make up for the way that he dealt with that situation. He would like to befriend his partner.

    “Yeah, you can’t wait to get rid of me," Gavin snorts, "You think I’ll let you screw up this case? I was up all night trying to clue things together, and the longer I wait, the further I get. You remember what I told you, don’tcha? You listen to me. Not the other way around.”

    “I was being nice,” Richard replies in annoyance, “You should try it some time, detective. Maybe everyone whose ever met you wouldn’t  _ hate you so much _ .” As he talks, his irritation grows, and he finds himself furious by the time that he finishes speaking. He’s sick of being barked at like a dog no matter how hard he tries to be kind. His words trail off as a deep growl, and his body tenses up subconsciously. He doesn’t realize it, but he sneers at the man with a ferocity that makes him appear much more threatening than he really is. The fact that he’s at least a solid foot taller than his partner only makes the situation more profound. Gavin looks up at him and swallows hard, standing his ground nonetheless. His face is plastered with a cold, unforgiving expression that only disappears when Richard calms down.

     “Fine,” Gavin says indignantly, “I’m sure you just don’t know how to apologize since your components can't really understand human emotions. But I’ll accept your apology.” He starts to walk off, and Richard turns his nose up at him.

     “Where are you going?” The android asks. Gavin tells him that it’s none of his business, and he watches the man disappear into the men's restroom. He furrows his brow and cocks his head to the side, his eyes flickering dubiously. He turns his head around when an unexpected hand gives him a solid pat on the back. Hank Anderson looks up at him with a crooked grin, and Connor smiles next to him. The older lieutenant holds out his hand, offering the android a soda can. The aluminum is labeled as Droid-Sip, a popular beverage chemically formulated specifically for androids by an android-owned company called Machine Ease. Connor has a can of his own, so Richard takes the offering without hesitation, nodding in thanks.

     “I still think it’s completely unnecessary that androids consume something for the mere sake of appearance,” He says, “But I appreciate it.” Hank drops his arm and rolls his eyes, Connor chuckling as he takes a sip of his own drink. The rk800 holds his can up and explains the supplementary facts of the liquid inside, going into detail about the benefits of a chemical that that can remove build-up in older biocomponents while simultaneously rejuvenating blue blood. Richard registers the explanation for a 37th time, exasperated by his friend’s neverending enthusiasm for products created by Machine Ease. He gives Connor a flat look, and Hank laughs heartily, playfully smacking the palm of his hand against the older model’s back. Connor glances down at the evidence displayed on Gavin’s desk, walking over to pick up a picture of the crime scene. Hank looks over his shoulder and inhales sharply.

     “Jesus, kid. What the hell is that?” Hank reaches around Connor and gently takes the picture out of his hand, stepping back as he holds it up to get a better look. Connor steps back and raises his brow at the android next to him, impressed.

     “You’ve already received a serious case,” He says, “That’s quite impressive, Richard.” Richard waves a dismissive hand in the air, knowing that such a compliment from Connor is more than generous.

     “You’ve taken down entire drug operations,” Richard brags, “And you’re the most decorated android in the Detroit City Police Force.” Connor sheepishly diverts his gaze, but Hank grabs him by the shoulder, hugging him against his side as he voices his own boastful sentiment. He teases Connor by referring to him as Markus’ boyfriend, to which Connor indignantly states that he has no interest in the aforementioned android. Hank chuckles, gently shaking him. He ruffles his dark brown hair and takes a side-step, giving his partner a cheeky look as he haphazardly tosses the picture in his hand onto the pile of evidence next to him.

     “Still,” Richard says, “You’re best friend is the leader of an entire movement. He was responsible for the revolution seven years ago, and without your help during that time, I wouldn’t even be able to think for myself.”

     “You really don’t know how to take a compliment, kid.” Hank looks down at Gavin’s desk again, picking up another picture. Connor nods in agreement with the man.

     “Either way,” Connor adds, “You seem to be managing with detective Reed rather well. I knew you would be useful to the department, but when I gave the captain your recommendation, I didn't realize that you would immediately be partnered with someone like that. I apologize.” Richard folds his hands behind his back and shrugs, gently shaking his head.

     “There’s no need to apologize, Connor. I wanted to work for the department as badly as you wanted me to. It isn’t your fault that Gavin Reed is an insufferable bastard.” Hank nearly chokes, and Connor’s eyes widen in surprise. Both individuals look at him with shocked expressions, and he furrows his brow in confusion. When Hank points out that he swore, it takes him a moment to register. He makes a long face and grunts at himself, surprised.

     “I suppose I did,” He replies, nonchalant. Hank gives him a crooked grin, leaning on Connor's shoulder as he laughs softly.

     “I can’t even get this one to drop the f-bomb without fucking apologizing for it. Insufferable bastard, huh?” Richard unfolds his hands, rubbing the back of his neck as he shrugs again.

     “I heard an officer say it,” He explains, “I thought it was rather...fitting.” Hank snorts at that, dropping his arm off of Connor’s shoulder as he turns his attention back to Gavin's desk. He tosses the picture in his hand and picks up another one, inwardly wincing as he holds it up.

     “I don’t think you’ve even hit the tip of the iceberg, kid. Insufferable bastard? Gavin Reed is a narcissistic fucking asshole with no consideration for anyone but himself. He’s a hate mongering idiot.” Hank stares at the picture in his hand and frowns, giving the image a bizarre look as he tries to figure out what it portrays. He flips it sideways and squints. When everyone falls silent, he flips the picture around and looks up at Richard.

     “What is this?” He asks, clearly disturbed. Connor leans forward to see what he’s holding, and Richard reaches for the picture.

     “Those are human testicles,” He calmly replies. Hank curses out loud. The older man asks why they’re no longer connected to the owner, and Richard sits the picture down on the corner of Gavin’s desk. He reaches for the bagged picture frame a few feet away, holding it up as he points to the men in the center of the photograph.

     “Do you recognize this man?” He asks. Hank leans closer, squinting at the image for a lingering moment before bolting up and giving Richard an intrigued look.

     “Well, ‘course I do. That’s the cocky bastard on the news. What about him?” He slowly draws back, and Richard drops the picture to his side, naming the man in the picture as the victim involved in his case. Hank’s expression drops as he makes a connection, and Richard nods at him, confirming that the flesh in the first image belongs to James Montgomery. He explains that the man was discovered in his office by a coworker the day before.

     “What we’ve gathered so far,” He continues, “Is that Montgomery was most likely held at gunpoint while he was forced onto his knees. His arms were tied behind his back, and his ankles were tied underneath him. The rope was brought up and knotted around the one of his wrists, making it impossible for him to stand up without dislocating his shoulders. We still don’t have much information regarding what happened next, but he was castrated at some point after that. He wasn’t murdered, for some reason. He would have bled out and died if his coworker had failed to find him, but the assault seemed carefully thought-out. Whoever attacked the man wanted him to suffer through a slow, painful experience. I can’t prove whether or not the plan was for him to actually die.” Hank’s jaw drops, and Connor just stands there, processing the information. "What's worse," Richard continues, "The entire day's worth of security footage went missing." He catches Gavin in the corner of his eye, the man making his way towards the security doors in the front of the building.

     “Reed!” He shouts, excusing himself from the conversation before running off after his partner. “Sorry, I’ve got to go. Reed! Where are you going?” He pursues Gavin, grabbing his shoulder when he manages to catch up with him. The man turns around and quickly wipes his nose with a finger, giving the android a wide-eyed look. Richard’s face adapts a perplexed expression, his brows knitting together as his nose crinkles. His face drops almost instantly, and he falls silent. He stands still and stares at Gavin for an lengthy amount of time before the detective starts to feel uncomfortable. The man raises an eyebrow, giving his partner an expectant look. He waves his hand in front of the android, and when the rk900 fails to respond, he snaps his fingers between them. Richard jolts out of his thoughts and shakes it off, taking a step back as he straightens himself out.

     “What’s wrong with you?” Gavin asks, “Did you malfunction or something?” He turns his nose up at the robot, squinting his eyes suspiciously. Richard shakes his head and claims that he was internally filing information, but Gavin can tell he’s lying. The detective’s expression wavers, a flicker of unease in his eyes before he adopts a lighter look.

     “Where did you go?” Richard asks. Gavin registers the hint of caution in his voice, his expression hardening as he searches for an excuse to change the subject.

     “I’m gonna talk to Montgomery’s wife,” He says as he turns to leave, “Move your ass, or I’ll leave you here.” Richard opens his mouth to argue, but Gavin gets a good distance away from him before he can say anything. The shorter man disappears through the nearby security doors, so Richard hastily chases after him, calling out his name as he does so. He catches up to Gavin at the front doors of the building, where they both make their way outside. Gavin reaches for his breast pocket as soon as they step onto the sidewalk, and Gavin disappointed by clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. The man in front of him spins around with a pack of cigarettes in hand, looking up at the android with an agitated scowl. Richard reflexively averts his gaze, clearing his throat instead of voicing another opinion that his partner will get angry about.

     “ _ What _ ?” Gavin snaps in response. Richard looks down at him with a blank look on his face, giving a curt shrug of his shoulders.

     “Nothing,” He replies, “I didn’t say anything.” Although he’s being honest, Gavin can tell what he’s thinking, and somehow the lack of response only makes his partner angrier. The man takes a large step forward and stands up on his toes in an attempt to make himself appear taller while he speaks.

     “You got something to say, you plastic prick?” Richard studies the shorter man as he contemplates whether or not he should say something. He decides not to, so Gavin backs off. The shorter brunette turns to leave, heading in the opposite direction as he pulls out a cigarette. Richard follows close behind him, dodging a cloud of smoke as it erupts from the tip of his partners cigarette and slips past him. Another cloud hits him directly in the face, and he accidentally inhales it, coming to a sharp halt as his throat functions close up in response. He starts coughing uncontrollably, and Gavin stops walking, turning around to check on him.

     “What are you--?” Richard grasps at his neck, clearing his throat before straightening himself up. He scrunches his face up and puts his hand on his chest, rattled by the unfamiliar physical reflex that he’s just experienced for the first time.

     “I have an optional breathing function that accompanies my internal lung unit,” He explains, “And my body reacts accordingly whenever it senses something toxic.” Gavin takes a drag of his cigarette and closes the space between them, deliberately blowing a cloud of smoke at Richard’s face. Richard chokes up and stumbles back, stifling another cough. Gavin hums inquisitively, giving him an intrigued look.

     “Does it hurt?” He asks, genuinely curious. Richard furrows his brow, his facial expression uncertain.

     “Not exactly,” He says, “The function is mainly made for appearance, and although the chemicals are harmful to humans, they can’t affect my biocomponents. That being said, the physical response is certainly...not pleasent.”

     “You said it’s optional?” Gavin asks, taking another hit off of his cigarette. “Why not turn it off?” He makes a conscious decision to turn his head and exhale in the other direction, avoiding Richard’s face this time. Richard watches the smoke dissipate next to him, letting out a sigh.

     “I activated the function last night out of curiosity,” The android claims. “Would you prefer that I deactivate it?” He asks. Gavin bites his bottom lip, mulling it over in his head. He brings his cigarette up to his mouth and hums in uncertainty, throwing his hand up as he discards the idea.

     “No,” He says, “Keep it on.” Richard is somewhat surprised by the request, but he nods in approval. Gavin sticks his cigarette between his lips and sucks on it, scratching his head as he furrows his brow. He plucks the cigarette out of his mouth and throws his head back as he exhales.

     “Let’s go,” He says as he walks off, “We’ve got an interview to take care of.” He looks down at the cigarette in his hand and grunts. He sniffles, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand before tossing his cigarette off to the side. He zips his jacket up and reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his cell phone. He swipes his thumb across the screen and taps the message icon on the bottom of the screen. Opening up a conversation between him and a man named Charlie, he sends a message identifying the time that he plans to leave work later that night. He sniffles again, stuffing his phone back into his pocket before wiping his nose with his sleeve. Richard picks up his pace as they turn the corner. Gavin looks up at him and frowns.

     “May I ask you a personal question?” The android asks. Gavin rolls his eyes, having heard Connor say the exact same thing to Hank on several occasions.

     “Depends.” He reaches back and flips his hood over his head. He then stuffs his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, shuddering as a gust of cold air hits him from behind. He glances over and takes note of the fact that Richard’s body doesn’t respond even though he’s only wearing his police uniform.

      “You need a damn jacket,” Gavin says, “You look like an idiot out in the cold with short sleeves on.”  Richard cocks an eyebrow.

     “I don’t feel the cold,” He says in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. Gavin sighs, pulling his keys out of his pocket as they approach the parking deck at the end of the street.

     “Well can’t you turn that on, too?” The detective walks up to his car and shoves his key into the door lock, twisting it until he registers an audible click. He then jerks the keys out and swings his door wide open, jumping inside before slamming it shut beside him. Richard climbs in beside him, and he runs his hands together, desperately trying to warm up. He twists his key in the ignition, reaching for the temperature wheel on the dashboard as soon as his vehicle revs to life. Richard watches him turn the knob, which causes every vent in the car to start blowing hot air. Gavin sniffles, stepping down on the brake pad as he shifts the gear into reverse.

     “Would you like me to activate temperature sensitivity?” The android asks. The car rolls back a few feet, Gavin slowly turning the wheel as they move.

     “Not right now,” He says, “You’ll freeze your ass off.” Richard nods, and Gavin shifts the car into drive. They roll out of the garage in silence, so Gavin turns on the radio. Out of the speakers comes a high-pitched whine accompanied by drums and keyboard. Richard registers the lyrics from an outdated band that was most popular during 2015, but his partner quickly changes the station, and heavy rock explodes from the speakers surrounding them.


	3. Chapter Three

     Richard’s eyes scan the screen in front of him as he absentmindedly drags his hand against the large saint bernard curled up next to him. He registers the sound of approaching footsteps and looks back to find Connor walking towards him wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and an oversized t-shirt. He gives the other android an amused look, and Connor smiles sheepishly. The rk800 walks around and squeezes himself between Sumo and the arm of the couch, gently patting the dog on his hip. He turns his attention to the television in front of them, listening as the man on-screen explains a recent crime involving one of Detroit’s most influential news stations. He listens closely to the details. He isn’t sure why Richard is so interested in the story until he starts to recognize that some details match up with the photographs that he had seen on Gavin’s desk earlier that day. He looks over at the android next to him, and Richard pulls his gaze away from the television.

     “Is Detective Reed treating you well?” Connor asks. Richard looks down at Sumo and shrugs.

     “Not exactly,” He replies with a hint of disappointment in his voice, “It’s proven to be quite difficult.” Connor gives him a reassuring smile as he pulls his legs up in front of him. The rk800 brings his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around his shins.

     “Still,” He says, “You’ve only worked with Detective Reed for two days, and you’ve managed to gain enough of his trust for him to cooperate with you. He still continues to belittle me as often as he can.” Richard studies his older counterpart for a lingering moment, his chest slowly rising and declining as he sighs heavily.

     “You’ve activated your respiratory unit?” Connor says aloud, clearly surprised that Richard has decided to do so. The newer model has made his pretentious opinion of such functions clear on several occasions, downright dismissing them as a pathetic attempt to copy mankind. He usually goes off on a tangent about how androids should feel comfortable living without being concerned by the way that humans view them. Connor has always taken advantage of his own optional functions for the sake of making everyone around him comfortable, so he can’t help but feel a bit smug now that his almost identical friend has finally given in to doing the same. Richard gives him an embarrassed look and tries to change the subject, but Connor interrupts him before he has a chance to reply.

     “May I ask why you made the decision to do so?” The rk800 asks, genuinely curious. Richard sighs again, looking up at the ceiling as he thinks to himself for a brief second.

     “I regret to admit that I have a strong yearning for his approval ” He says at last, “And I came to the conclusion that activating my optional anthropomorphic functions could make him... like me more..” Connor chuckles, giving him a funny look as he drops his legs onto the ground. He grabs the arm of the couch and pulls himself onto his feet, turning to look at Richard as he explains that it’s natural for androids to want acceptance from their human acquaintances. He plants his hand on his chest and admits that he keeps all of his optional biocomponents functioning even though Hank doesn’t care about how human he looks.

     “I still want people to think of me as another person,” He says, “I think it might be derived from my original programming. You and I were both built with the intention of assisting criminal investigations while working well with human officers. We've been downloaded with advanced dialogue techniques for interrogation and negotiation, so we naturally have a stronger sense of empathy than most androids.'' Richard looks up at him and frowns. He drops his head and furrows his brow, thinking to himself. Conner gives him a concerned look.

     “Is something wrong, Richard?” He watches as the seated android pulls his hand away from Sumo, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back and shrugs.

     “When I see you and Hank, it's like your his own child.” Richard sounds dejected, so Connor attempts to dismiss his statement by claiming that he could never replace Hank’s own kin. He explains that Hank still mourns the loss of Cole, and that nothing could fix that. Richard just looks up at him with a flat look.

     “I’ve heard him refer to you as his son on several different occasions,” He says in a plain matter-of-fact tone of voice.

     “Hank feels the same way about you,” Connor indignantly replies. Richard shakes his head and drops his hands in his lap, leaning forward as he releases another deep sigh.

     “Not entirely,” He says wistfully, “You’ll always be Connor. And I’ll always be Richard. I don’t mind. I care about Hank just as much as you do, and I’m happy that you are able to make him happy. But I suppose I was hoping for a similar dynamic with Detective Reed. I want someone like that. I’m sorry, Connor. That sounds selfish, doesn’t it?” He anxiously taps his forefinger against his thigh, his face hard as he inwardly curses at himself. Connor looks at him and smiles sympathetically.

     “That isn’t weird at all, Richard. I completely understand--" Richard bolts up and spins around, the sudden movement disturbing Sumo from his slumber. The large dog stands up and gives both androids a look of betrayal, jumping off of the couch as he makes his way toward the kitchen.

     “You  _ don’t _ understand,” The blue-eyed android shouts, “You  _ can’t _ understand, Connor! I have all of these… these…” He grasps at his chest and grits his teeth as he tries to find the right words. “There’s all of these  _ feelings _ , and I don’t understand them. I’m not supposed to feel like this. I’m not  _ built _ to feel like this! I just want to shut it off!" Richard stands rigid for a lingering moment, only relaxing once he realizes how ignorant he sounds. Connor would know how he’s feeling better than anyone. The older android spent an entire year being forced to obey orders, and he became a deviant by sheer willpower. If anyone knows how it feels to experience emotion for the first time, it would be him. Richard inwardly curses at himself again, gently shaking his head as he drops his gaze to his feet.

     “I apologize,” He says after a while, “I didn’t mean that.” Connor nods, peeking up as he notices that Sumo’s sitting in front of his empty dog bowl. He walks into the kitchen and grabs the giant bag of kibble sitting in the corner.

     “There’s no need to apologize,” Connor says as he dumps a portion of the bag into the silver bowl on the ground, “Although I think Detective Reed might be rubbing off on you.” He drops the bag, and Sumo jumps up excitedly, shoving his face into the food without hesitation. When he looks over at Richard, Richard squints at him.

     “What do you mean?” The blue-eyed android asks as he returns to his seat on the end of the couch. Connor cracks a cheeky grin.

     “You can be an insufferable bastard sometimes” He chuckles. Richard gives him a flat look, and then they both laugh in unison, only falling silent when the door to Hank’s bedroom swings open and slams against the wall. Connor goes rigid, and Richard slinks down in an attempt to hide behind the back of the couch. A trail of footsteps stomp down the hall, and Richard looks up at the giant shadow that forms on the wall in front of him. He looks over at Connor, and Connor looks over at Hank, who's standing in the middle of the hall wearing a grimy old band shirt and baggy sweat pants. The old man’s hair is even messier than normal, and his harsh blue eyes wrinkle at the corners as his glare scans the room in front of him.

     “Hey,” He barks in a grumpy rasp, “I know you asshats ain’t need to sleep, but I do. So if you could  _ kindly shut the fuck up _ , that’d be nice.” His head jerks sideways as he stares at Connor with a pointed expression on his face.

     “Sorry, Lieutenant.” He gives a slight nod of his head, and the police lieutenant gives him a suspicious look, as if he isn’t satisfied by an apology alone.

     “What were you two goin’ on about, anyway?” He glances over at the couch, and Richard glances up at Connor, who hesitates to come up with a viable answer.

     “Connor said bastatf,” Richard says out of desperation to change the subject. Hank jerks his attention back to the android standing in his kitchen, giving the rk800 a stern look. The house falls silent, and then Hank laughs heartily, holding his gut as he chuckles in disbelief.

     “Yeah, right.” His laugh slowly fades, and then he tenses up again. “Just keep it down, or I’ll break your arms. Both o’ ya.” He turns to leave without another word, and once he’s out of earshot, Connor slowly makes his way back into the living room. The brown-eyed android walks past Richard and takes a seat next to him, gesturing at the television in front of them.

     “This is what you’re working on, isn’t it?” Richard looks up at the grisly news report, nodding his head. Connor sits back and nestles against the weathered cushion behind him, studying the screen in front of him as he takes in information. The man in the middle of the screen reports an attempted murder at a rival news station, where the company’s most influential journalist was found castrated in his own office. The police are treating the crime as a sexual assault, although many speculate whether or not it could be seen as an act of revenge. Apparently the man involved was well-known for sexual advancements towards women. The station claims to have proof in the form of allegations from both coworkers and individuals that have participated in past interviews. The man on-screen continues to describe gruesome details of the crime scene while he’s replaced by the morbid images that he’s talking about. Richard leans forward with a blank look on his face, his eyes darting around the television as he scans each individual image displayed in front of him.

     “Those are photos of the crime scene,” He says, “This is an ongoing investigation. How did Talks News Network get ahold of images that are still considered confidential?” Connor glances over at him and leans forward, turning his attention back to the images displayed on-screen.

      “That’s the picture Hank was looking at,” He notes, “ Someone leaked information. This is not going to go over well.” He watches as an image of blood splatter slowly fades into another picture, this one depicting what appears to be a bloodied piece of thick rope. He quickly analyzes the scene, registering a sheet bend knot on one end of the rope. He calculates approximately a pint of blood on the ground, and he also catches a glimpse of the name-brand designer shoe haphazardly discarded against the wall. The light brown rubber soul is smudged with fingerprints, which he is able to immediately identify as James Montgomery’s. When the image is replaced by yet another one, Richard perks up.

     “That’s not…” Richard leans closer to the screen, analyzing the visible fingerprint as he searches police database for a match. He’s able to identify the finished surface as sandalwood coated in a clear varnish. The fingerprint registers as an identical match to Sarah Cho, but her record fails to detail any criminal activity. The woman has lived in Southern Michigan for seventeen years, and she’s been an art teacher at her local elementary school for almost five years. The only reason she even has a spot in the police database is because of an accusation she made three years ago; a claim that she had been assaulted by James Montgomery after he interviewed her after an art competition that one of her students had won.

     “That image is not in my files,” Richard says as he slowly pulls back, “And I can’t locate it in the department’s archives.” The image slowly dissipates, a young female reporter taking over as she voices her own distress.

     “This is truly frightening,” She says, “What does the Detroit Police Department have to say about the ongoing investigation?” The screen switches back to the aging man who had been talking moments earlier. He nods solemnly, admitting that the station’s journalists have been unable to reach anyone for further questioning. He changes the subject as he turns in his seat, switching his attention to the another camera as the recording angle changes The large screen behind him starts playing a slideshow of children petting various animals at the Detroit Zoo as his report segues into information about a recent bombing that took place during the zoo’s anniversary celebration. He starts to explain that a local animal rights group was involved in the act, but Richard doesn’t stay to listen. He stands up and walks around the couch, gaining Connor’s attention. The rk800 stands up and gives him a curious look, following him.

     “Where are you going?” He asks. Richard turns around, and Connor comes to a halt in front of him.

     “I was planning to find Detective Reed so I can inform him of the situation,” Richard says, “We need to know who gave the news station that picture, and how they got ahold of it.” Connor winces, giving him an unsettled look.

     “It’s nearly three in the morning,” He says, “And Reed will most likely try to disassemble you if you show up at his personal house. I can help you, though. I’ll go.” Richard stares at him and considers this for a moment, shaking his head when he finally makes a decision. He doesn’t want to get Connor involved, because he doesn’t want the android to take charge of his investigation. He could be helpful, but Richard needs to solve this case on his own. He wants to prove himself; to prove that he can be just as sufficient as Connor. As selfish as it is, he’ll feel useless if Connor outshines him, so he decides to wait until morning. His shoulders slump slightly as he sighs heavily.

     “I should wait until I can reach Detective Reed,” He reluctantly answers, “He’ll want to be involved.” He refrains from going into detail, but in all honesty he's well aware of how unreliable Reed thinks he is. The detective hasn’t allowed him to participate in any crucial investigative actions without supervision, and even when he does give him permission to do something by himself, he always has him explain everything afterwards.

     “To be fair,” Connor says, “That sounds like a good idea. You don’t want to get on Reed’s bad side.” He steps aside as Richard walks past him, stepping around the couch. The blue-eyed android grabs the nearby remote and points it at the television screen, switching the channel. Connor and him spend the rest of the night watching a history channel, both individuals absorbing information about the underground railroad as a well-known historian explores various historical buildings that remain intact. They do so until Sumo starts uncontrollably barking around seven in the morning.

     Both androids startle, caught off-guard by the sudden noise. They jump out of their seats and try to calm Sumo down by talking to him, but the dog runs up to the front door and paws at it, obnoxiously whining as his front claws drag against the wood. He starts barking again, so Connor runs around the couch and grabs his collar, pulling him back. Sumo refuses to behave, jerking forward as he lets out a low growl. Connor gives the dog an unsettled look, glancing over at Richard. The other android looks just as shocked as he does. Sumo jerks forward again, and Connor loses his grip, stumbling backwards. He falls on his ass, and Richard jumps over the back of the couch, wrapping his arms around the large dog’s waist. He picks him up and carries him off, but the animal continues to bark while reluctantly wriggling in an attempt to get free.

     “Sumo!” Connor shouts in a harsh whisper, “Shut up before you wake Hank!” It doesn’t matter, because Hank’s bedroom door swings open again before either of them can do anything. Sumo throws himself backwards, and Richard loses his balance, dropping the saint bernard as he catches himself on the edge of the kitchen table. Hank appears at the end of the hall, and Sumo runs past him, jumping over Connor as he makes his way back to the front door. He jumps up and howls, anxiously clawing at the thin slab of wood in front of him. Hank gives his dog a bizarre look, then turns his attention to Connor and Richard, who both look at him with clueless expressions. The old man steps forward and offers Connor his hand, pulling the android onto his feet before asking him if he’s okay. Connor nods, so the lieutenant focuses on his dog. He sends another curious glance back at Connor, and then shoves Sumo aside with his foot, cupping his hands on the glass window built into the front door.

     “What the hell is this idiot doing at my damn house?” He mutters as he looks out to find Gavin Reed standing on his porch. Still, it makes sense why Sumo is freaking out. Dogs can always sense when an asshole is nearby.

     “ _ Would you shut the hell up _ ?” Hank rasps, looking down at his dog. Sumo stops barking almost immediately, turning around before slowly making his way back to the kitchen. Connor and Richard both look at the dog, then at eachother.

     “Well,” Connor says, “That was easy.” Hank grunts, staring out at Gavin for a lingering moment. He sighs heavily, turning around as he looks up at the blue-eyed android standing in his kitchen. When he asks him about Gavin, the android just shrugs, giving him a baffled look. Hank sighs once more, hesitating to open the door. He mutters something under his breath and reaches for the door lock, twisting it to the left until he registers a small  _ click _ . He grabs the door handle and presses his thumb down on the thin tab above it, slowly peeling the door open as he takes a step to the side.

     "The fuck you want?" He asks, keeping the door open no more than a few inches as he peeks out from behind it. Gavin gives him a flat look and rolls his eyes, his foot anxiously tapping against the concrete underneath him.

     “I need to talk to your robot,” He says, “Fowler said I could find him here.” Hank squints suspiciously.

     “Well  _ he lives here _ ,” The disgruntled old man replies, “So yeah, you can find him here.” Gavin looks surprised, and Hank is growing impatient.

     “Look, jackass, I’m tryin’ to sleep. It’s 7:15 in the morning, by the way. What the hell you need Connor for?” It’s common sense that Gavin would be looking for his partner, but Hank isn’t entirely awake, so his brain fails to register this. Gavin shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket, giving the man an annoyed expression.

     “The  _ other _ robot, old man.” Hank relaxes, his eyes widening as he realizes his own stupidity.

     “Oh. Yeah, that one.” He turns around and says something inaudible, Gavin impatiently waiting on the porch. After some muffled conversation, the door slams shut. Gavin groans, glancing around. He’s never been to Hank’s house before, but it looks about as shabby as he’d expect. The grass is overgrown, the window on the right side is boarded up with a thin sheet of particle wood, and the siding has faded from a light blue to a dull grey. There’s a few shingles sitting in the yard, and when Gavin steps off of the porch to look up, he notices that half of the dark brown shingles are a lot older than the other half. He glances back at the door and decides to take a look around, making his way towards the left side of the house. He rounds the corner and sweeps his eyes over the equipment leaning against the side of the house- step ladder, rake, tattered push broom, giant rusted toolbox. He passes by without any further thought, leaning over the small gate that leads into the back yard.

     Before he has a chance to react, Sumo comes charging towards him, barking incessantly. The dog jumps onto the gate and startles him, making him stumble back a few feet. He quickly regains his bearings as he crouches down, slowly approaching the animal. He talks to the saint bernard in a low, soothing voice. He stands up and reaches over the gate, slowly extending his arm. Sumo hesitates before cautiously stepping forward and licking his palm. Gavin’s mouth curls into a wide smile. He waits for the dog to stop licking him, and then reaches up and pets him, dragging his hand over the animal’s head.

     “That’s a good boy,” He hums, scratching behind Sumo’s ear. Sumo jumps up and hangs his paws over the gate, licking Gavin as he pets him. The detective chuckles lightly, warm dog breath against his face as Sumo starts panting excitedly.

     “You seem to have grown on him,” Richard says unexpectedly, “Although I’ll admit that he’s completely harmless.” Gavin turns around, his smile disappearing as soon as he meets gazes with the blue-eyed android standing in front of him. Richard is wearing a pair of black jeans and a light blue sweater that accentuates the silvery color of his eyes. He’s also chosen to wear a black leather jacket, which looks new even though it has a weathered finish. Gavin studies him for a moment, and then diverts his gaze, muttering something under his breath before he looks up at the android again. He takes a deep breath and steps forward, his face fixated on the blue-eyed individual. Richard is certain that he’s about to get accused of leaking crime scene photos, but he’s proven wrong when Gavin walks past him, grabbing his arm.

     “Come on,” The detective says as they make their way onto the front lawn, “We’re going to TNN, and you’re going to figure out who the hell gave the station those pictures. By the way…” Gavin spins around and scans Richard from head to toe before looking up to meet gates with him. One corner of his mouth twitches upwards, his lips forming a lopsided grin of approval.

     “Trying to jack my style?” He says, giving the android a look of feigned offense. Richard looks confused until he glances down at his outfit and realizes that the detective is referring to his jacket.

     “Oh,” He says quietly, “I liked yours, so I thought…” Gavin grunts, pulling a cigarette out as Richard looks up at him.

     “It’s a good look,” The detective says as he gestures at the android with his cigarette. Richard blinks, sending another glance at his clothes before asking the detective if he’s being serious. Gavin lights his lighter and takes a long drag, nodding his head as he slowly exhales a large cloud of smoke.

     “Yeah,” He says, “I mean, I wear it better, but it looks alright on you.” The shorter brunette drops his gaze and kicks the snow at his feet, sucking on his cigarette as he thinks to himself. Richard studies him closely, furrowing his brow. The android is caught off-guard by his partner’s compliment, and he isn’t quite sure if it was meant to be sarcastic. He wonders if the man was somehow insulting him, but he decides not to say anything, choosing to believe that the man was actually being nice for once.

     The sky behind Gavin is still filled with the faint twinkle of stars even though the sun is slowly rising over the horizon. The pinkish orange skyline blends into a dark blue sea above them, birds flying by as they search for their morning meals. Gavin absentmindedly stands still as he finishes his cigarette, and for a moment Richard is able to appreciate his partner’s company without enduring his typical banter. He takes the opportunity to study Gavin closely, watching the man absentmindedly pacing through Hank’s front yard while he finishes his cigarette. The detective still hasn’t bothered to shave, so his stubble is even thicker than the day before. His eyes are surrounded by dark circles and accentuated by the heavy bags underneath them. When Richard notices that the man is three pounds lighter than he was when they first met, he finds himself wondering if he’s been eating properly.

     “Detective,” Richard says out of concern, “Do you feel well?” Gavin flicks his cigarette a few feet away, giving him a confused look.

     “Yeah,” He lies, “I’m fine. Why?” Richard steps forward and asks for him to open his mouth, but he refuses.

     “What the hell for? What are you on about?” The detective looks up at him, holding his hand over his mouth when the android reaches toward him.

     “I’ve seen your freak of a friend process blood with his tongue,” He says in a muffled voice, “I am not letting you stick your fucking finger in my mouth.”


	4. Chapter 4

     Gavin parks his car in front of Talks News Network’s main building, pulling his keys out of the ignition. He takes a deep breath and reaches for the door handle, pushing the door open as he swings his feet out of the car. Frozen slush crunches under him as he stands up, the soft twinkle of snowflakes filling the air around him. He swings the car door shut and flips his hood up, turning around to survey the giant building in front of him. The TNN building is almost as large as the KNN building, and for good reason since both networks are considered the most popular news broadcasting stations in Detroit. Unlike KNN’s building, however, this building is taller than it is wide. The architecture consists of a single tower lined with windows on all four sides, the ground floor’s entire front wall made completely out of glass. The other three walls are solid black brick, with light grey quoins lining each corner. There’s a decorative entablature of the same color that sits atop the front doors, held up by matching columns. The company’s initials sit on top of it, spelled out in bright red neon lights.

     “I was just thinking,” Richard says as he climbs out of the car, “You should smile more often.” Gavin looks back at him, caught off-guard by the remark.

     “Like the look on your face when you were handling Sumo,” Richard says, “You have a very handsome smile.” Gavin opens his mouth to say something smart, but he reluctantly settles for accepting the compliment, diverting his gaze as he walks around the car. Richard follows him up to the front doors of the building, where he holds the door open for him. The detective enters the building first, muttering an unenthusiastic thanks as Richard allows the door to fall shut behind them.

     “You’re welcome,” Richard says with a delighted smile. Gavin glances back at him and frowns, telling him to shut up and get rid of the stupid smile on his face. Richard instantly does as told, although Gavin can tell by the disappointed look on his face that his reaction is due to disheartenment instead of simple obedience. The detective feels somewhat remorseful, sighing heavily before he speaks up again.

     “ _Don’t make that face_ ,” He says in an apologetic tone, “Just stop acting like a lost puppy. I’m not your fatherly Hank Anderson, so you don’t need to get all giddy just because I say thank you.” For some reason, Richard looks even more disappointed when he finishes talking, and Gavin doesn’t know what he said to upset the android, but he’s too proud to downright apologize. So he just rolls his eyes and walks up to the secretary’s desk, looking around. Richard takes a seat on the leather couch against the wall to his left. Gavin thrums his fingers against the wooden desktop in front him, leaning over it to see what’s on the other side.

     “You said there was a fingerprint match,” He says as he steps back and turns his attention to Richard, “That's our most important evidence right now.” Richard nods, remaining silent. Gavin stares at the sullen individual for a lingering moment, and then turns his attention back to the task at hand. He walks over to a door labeled for employees only, cautiously peeling it open as he peeks through. Nothing is on the other side except for a broom closet filled with various cleaning supplies, so he shuts the door and turns around, leaning sideways to look down the corridor that extends to the right side of the building. The hall is empty, and Gavin is slowly growing impatient. He can feel his anxiety spike, his left hand trembling uncontrollably. He lifts the arm up and shoves his right hand under the sleeve, scratching an insatiable itch on his wrist. He doesn’t notice Richard watching him, but he ends up excusing himself to find a bathroom.

     The detective disappears down the hall, shoving himself through a door at the end of it. Richard patiently waits for him to return, sitting in silence for the entirety of thirteen minutes before his partner returns. When Gavin reappears, he glances up at him. The shorter brunette seems calmer now, but he’s still agitated to find that nobody has come to greet them.

     “Jesus Christ,” Gavin hisses, “Where the Hell is everyone?” He walks over to a chair on the wall opposite of Richard, pulling his phone out of his back pocket as he takes a seat. He brings a leg up and folds it over his knee, resting his hands in his lap as he unlocks his phone. He taps the little message icon on the bottom of the screen, scrolling through his contacts until he finds the one that he’s looking for. His thumb hits the icon labeled as Charlie, which is accompanied by the image of a younger asian man with bright blue hair.

_Stressed. Can you hit me up the day after tomorrow?_

     After he sends the message, he looks up at Richard, whose sitting in his seat with his arms crossed. The android is staring at the ground with a blank look on his face, and Gavin wonders what he’s thinking about. He studies the taller individual for a while, and then his phone vibrates, regaining his attention.

_That will work. Make sure you have cash on you this time. I’m running a business here, detective. You don’t get free handouts just because of who you are._

     Gavin rolls his eyes, stuffing the phone into his pocket. He looks up to find Richard staring at him with wide eyes, but he doesn’t know why the android looks so freaked out until he registers the feeling of warm blood rolling down his chin. He jumps up and curses, cupping a hand under his nose as blood pours out from his left nostril. Richard quickly grabs a handful of tissues from the tissue box sitting on the front desk. He runs up to Gavin and puts a concerned hand on his shoulder, offering the Kleenex. Gavin snatches the tissues out of his hand and shoves him away, hastily shoving a balled-up sheet into his nose as he uses another to wipe off his chin.

     “Are you alright, detective?” Richard stands a few feet away, giving his partner a concerned look. Gavin scowls at him, defensively snapping.

     “ _I’m fucking fine_ ,” He growls, “Just leave me alone.” Richard nods complacently, his expression defeated as he takes a step back. The android stares at him, and he almost tells the taller individual to fuck off, but he’s cut off when a tall woman in dark blue high heels materializes. Her skin-tight dress is a shade lighter than her heels, her light blonde curls draping over her shoulders. She greets both men with a conservative smile, and Gavin looks up to meet gazes with her bright green eyes. Richard extends his arm towards her, introducing them both before explaining why they’ve arrived. Gavin’s expression softens as he watches the android take charge of the situation. He straightens up and offers his hand as the young woman holds her arm out. She introduces herself as Hanna McKinley.

     “We were hoping to speak with the anchorman who gave last night's report on the assault at KNN earlier this week,” Richard says, “Would he be available at the moment?”

     “Unfortunately not,” Hanna replies, “He isn’t involved in any of the morning broadcasts. Is there someone else that could help you?” Richard glances over at Gavin, who does nothing but gesture for him to figure it out for himself. The android quickly turns his attention back to the woman in front of him, asking her if she would be able to give them the location of a woman by the name of Sarah Cho. Gavin simply stands there, observing the conversation as he thinks to himself.

     When Richard was first assigned to him, he absolutely loathed the idea of working with an android. He’s known Connor for years, and he’s hated him ever since they first met. He isn’t sure why, but something about the rk800 annoys the hell out of him. He follows Hank around like an obedient little pet, he’s always polite, he’s too talkative, he’s way too good looking, and… well, it just _pisses him the fuck off._ He was certain that he’d end up getting stuck with another kiss-ass machine incapable of making its own decisions, but when Richard proved himself to be the opposite of that, it was more than Gavin could have hoped for. Hell, the android almost broke his arm after knowing him for less than an hour.That takes some damn balls. And sure, Gavin almost pissed himself that day, but he’s done the same thing to more than a few suspects before. He can’t disapprove of the method. If anything, he’s impressed.

     “I’d have to check our archives” Gavin catches the young woman say as he pulls himself out of his thoughts. He glances over at her before jerking his gaze back to Richard, slowly dragging his eyes down the six-foot tall body as he continues to let his mind wander. He finds himself wondering if all androids are equipped with reproductive limbs. There are certain models that were specifically created for sex work, and they’re obviously equipped with artificial genitals because of that, but do all androids have such a function? Cyberlife was determined to produce life-like interactions, but the rk800 model was built for police work and criminal investigation. It was specifically manufactured for negotiation and interrogation during the deviant uprising seven years ago, so maybe it wasn’t deemed necessary to give the machine physical parts that couldn’t assist Hank. Come to think of it…

      _If Connor has a penis, then he and Hank might be…?_

     Gavin winces. That’s the last thing he wants to think about right now. He shakes himself off and takes a deep breath, clearing his throat. The woman turns to him and says something, but he doesn’t register her question until Richard grabs his attention by shouting his name.

     “Reed!” He looks up at the android, whose giving him a slightly annoyed look. The woman next to him raises her brow speculatively. The detective quickly perks up, trying his best to look like he knows what’s going on.

     “Oh,” Gavin says, “Er, what was that?” Richard gives him a flat look, clearly aware of the fact that his partner didn’t hear a single word of their conversation.

     “I asked if you would like me to retrieve Mr. Flynn’s contact information,” Hanna repeats, referring to the anchorman that they had requested to speak to. Her smile is much less convincing than it was when she first greeted them, although Gavin is willing to speculate that her cheery personality was just as fake when she first walked into the room.

     “Yeah,” He replies rather bluntly, “Get me a number, and while I’m here I need to talk to the person in charge of eyewitness interviews. Get me the guy who takes care of your media, too.” By the time he finishes demanding everything that he wants, the woman’s smile has completely disappeared. She’s clearly becoming impatient, although she doesn’t speak up about it. Instead, she walks off to find the two individuals that had been requested. Gavin gives her a dirty look as soon as her back is turned, and Richard gives him an unamused look in response. The detective glances up at him and grunts, pulling the bloodied tissue out of his nose. He uses the thin sheet to wipe off his crusty nostril, balling it up before he tosses it into a small metal bin next to the front doors of the building.

     “Fuck’s sake,” He mutters, “Tired of this snot-nosed bitch already.” He turns around to find Richard seated on the couch again, this time staring through the front wall of the building as the snowfall outside grows thicker. Gavin glances outside, surprised to find that he can barely see five feet in front of the away. He subconsciously wipes his nose with the back of his hand, sniffling to make sure the bleeding has come to a halt.

     “Do you get nose bleeds a lot?” Richard asks. The question is meant to imply suspicions of his partner’s activities, but the android keeps his eyes glued to the nearby window. Gavin looks over at him and scoffs.

     “ _No_ ,” He defensively replies, “ _I don’t_.” He surveys his partner with a guarded expression, squinting at the android. After sitting himself down on the nearby chair, he decides to focus on something else. His eyes wander over to the front wall of the building, staring through the glass as he watches an older couple flag down a taxi. He watches the balding man hold the vehicle door open, gesturing for his scrawny female friend to climb inside. They pull the door shut, and Gavin suddenly remembers something.

     “Do you have a dick?” He blurts out without hesitation. Richard’s head jerks around, the android giving him a bizarre look.

     “Do I have a _what_?” Gavin looks over at him, repeating the question just as clearly as he had the first time. Richard stares at him for a while, his forehead creasing as his brow furrows.

     “Well?” Gavin persists, “Do you?” He sits back in his seat and stretches his legs out in front of him, crossing his ankles. Richard shrugs him off, ignoring the question completely. He turns his attention back to the snowstorm outside, and Gavin gives him a cocky grin.

     “So you don’t? I figured as much.” He pulls his legs up and sits forward, balancing his elbows on his knees as he continues to taunt the individual in front of him. “It wouldn’t hurt if I kicked you in the nuts, then. You don’t even have ‘em, so I guess--"

     “ _I have a penis_ ,” Richard says repugnantly, “I just don’t know why that’s any of your business.” Gavin bites his bottom lip, stifling the question of whether or not his partner has balls. He chuckles inwardly, but Richard doesn’t look nearly as amused.

     “I was just curious,” The detective says as he slowly leans back in his seat, “I mean, I wasn’t sure if Connor did, and the two of you are so close to that fucking wannabe dad, I was wondering if maybe there was something weird going on there.” Richard stares at him with a blank look, taking a moment to register what Gavin’s implying. Once it hits him, he looks disgusted.

     “Hank is like a _father_ to us,” He says, Gavin chuckling at himself. The conversation ends there. The two of them sit in silence until Richard decides that he needs to confirm his relationship with Hank Anderson as nothing more than platonic. His partner gives his an inquisitive look, as if he doesn’t entirely believe him. Richard’s mouth curls into a grimace as he tries to ignore it. Gavin drops his head and scratches the back of his neck, taking a deep breath before letting out a heavy sigh. He sniffles again, only looking up when his ears register the sound of approaching high heels.

     “Detective.” He looks up to find the tall blonde secretary standing on the other side of the room, accompanied by a slightly older man with short red hair and a neatly trimmed beard. The unfamiliar face politely smiles at him, introducing himself as the man in charge of editorial work. Gavin stands up at the same time that Richard does. The android introduces himself, but Gavin interrupts by stepping forward and grabbing the android’s shoulder as he leans in to whispers in his ear.

     “Find out what you can while I talk to this asshole.” He pulls away, and Richard gives him a confused look.

     “But detective, that isn’t--" Gavin gives him a reassuring pat on the back, feigning a wide smile as he turns his attention back to the couple in front of him.

     “I don’t need this idiot confusing you,” He says, “Is there somewhere private we can talk?” Richard stares at him, utterly baffled by the situation. Gavin looks absurd with that grin on his face, but neither the woman nor the man seem to sense that anything is out of place. They both nod complacently, and Gavin follows them down the hall, glancing back at Richard. He tries to wink at the android, but both of his eyes slip shut as he does so. He disappears down the hall, and Richard is left to his own devices. He isn't sure what he's supposed to do, so his finds himself at a loss.

     “Great,” He mutters aloud to himself, “I thought you were finally letting me get somewhere. I suppose not.” His eyes sweep over the room in front of him as he tries to figure out what the detective meant.

_Find out what you can._

     How is he supposed to do anything with the little bit of information that he has? There’s nobody to talk to, and without someone to accompany him, he can’t just wander around the station looking for clues. He groans, his brow knitting in frustration. After a while, he gives up. He comes to the conclusion that Gavin’s request was nothing more than an excuse to keep him from getting involved, and his shoulders slump in disappointment. He walks over to the couch and plops down on it, impatiently tapping his foot against the ground as he keeps his hands folded in his lap. Several minutes pass, and he finds himself glancing up at the small clock situated against the wall behind the secretary’s desk. An alert sounds, and he redirects his attention to the monitor sitting ontop of the desk. He perks up as soon as an idea hits him. He sits forward in his seat and thinks to himself, weighing his options.

     It's illegal to search through a company's information without a warrant. He could easily connect to the TNN database by searching the computer, though. If he gets caught, he'll get in trouble. But he could investigate with the ease of a single touch. He could find a lead. He could help the case.

     Gavin would be impressed.

     Without hesitation, he stands up and walks over to the desk, sending a hasty glance around the room before reaching over to place his hand on the screen. His skin recedes, revealing the white surface of his exterior while he enters the TNN database through his fingertips. He closes his eyes and takes in as much information as he can.

     “Excuse me, can I help you?” Richard reflexively jerks his hand back, his eyes popping open to meet with the gaze of a young man dressed in a cheap suit. The brunette hurriedly hides his arm behind his back in order to make sure the stranger doesn’t notice that he’s an android. He panics, instinctively offering his free hand towards the man. Luckily, he's able to quickly process information about one of the men whose information he had gathered before being interrupted. He makes a quick decision to impersonate the individual in order to gain access to someone of interest in his investigation.

     “Jason,” He says in a heavy scottish accent to match the stolen identity, “Name’s Jason York. I’ve an appointment with Trevor Whi’man.” The man in front of him squints suspiciously, reaching for the clipboard tucked under his arm. He holds the board in front of him and flips through the stack of papers connected to it, humming curiously as he searches for the aforementioned name. He gives the clipboard a stern look, and Richard’s friendly appearance waivers.

     “You’re not scheduled to meet with Mr. Whitman until later, unless that dimwitted intern mixed up the time tables. Dammit, she better not have all of these times wrong. I swear I’ll--"

     “No’ a’ all,” Richard interjects, “The schedule’s correct. I was meant to meet with Whi’man at five, but I’m a bit of a twit. Y’see, I forgo’ tha’ I set a doctor’s visit for my li’l one, so I was hopin’ to get squeezed in for a brief meetin’.” The shorter man in front of him looks up and stares for a moment, as if caught off-guard by the accent. He opens his mouth to say something, but hesitates. Richard continues to smile at him, hoping that his act is as convincing as it feels.

     “If tha’ ain’t possible,” He says, “I’m afraid I can’t ge’ the pictures ta him ‘till next Sa’urday.” He manages an apologetic expression, receiving a subtle sigh in response. The young blonde in front of him nods his head, gesturing for him to follow as he turns to leave.

     “Mr. Whitman is in the middle of a board meeting,” He explains as they make their way through the long corridor, “But you can ask him for yourself, once he gets out. For the time being, you’ll have to wait in his office. Will that work?” He glances back at Richard, who gives a curt nod.

     “Brilliant,” The android adds for effect. They approach an elevator along the left wall, and the man in front of him pushes the elevator button, waiting until the doors split open. He steps through the doors, waits for Richard to do the same, and then hits the seventh floor button, tucking his clipboard under his arm as the doors slip shut once more. Richard takes a deep breath and looks up, watching as the numbers on the small screen above the door slowly count each floor. He can only hope that the man he’s meeting with doesn’t already know what the real Jason York looks like. It’ll be easier to get information without admitting that he works for the police; the fact that people are less willing to talk once cops get involved is common knowledge.

  
     “Right this way,” Says the man next to him as the elevator doors slide open. The young employee leads him down the hall to their right, stopping in front of a glass door. Trevor Whitman’s name is etched into the front of the glass. The room on the other side is barely visible through the blinds behind the door, but it’s clearly empty.

     “Just don’t touch anything.” Richard gives the secretary another nod, reaching for the door in front of him as the young man walks off. The android steps into the room and allows the door to fall shut behind him, hastily reaching for the cord connected to the blinds covering the entrance. He pulls the shutters down and spins around, scanning his surroundings.

     His eyes lock onto a computer sitting on the metal desk frame in the middle of the room, so he quickly makes his way over to the monitor. Just as before, he reaches over and presses his palm against the screen. As soon as his fingertips connect, he’s able to gather all of Whitman’s personal information. He closes his eyes and collects as much data as he can, searching through every detail for possible clues. He manages to register an email from KNN’s attorneys, the document demanding an immediate cease and desist.

_To whom it may concern,_

_It has come to our attention that you have released information regarding a crime that took place on the premises of Key News Network’s recording studio. We understand that your company must provide our city with frequent updates in order to maintain a healthy standing with the citizens who rely on your broadcast for information. However, we must suggest that you do so with discretion._

_It is heavily advised that you refrain from releasing any more details of such subject matter. If necessary, our firm will have to take further steps. Your legal team will receive additional details on the matter. If there are any questions or concerns about this situation, feel free to call the number provided below._

     The message is signed by Sylvester Dixon, a well-known lawyer based in southern Michigan. Under his signature is a corporate phone number, accompanied by an email address that belongs to the man who owns the law firm that employs him. Richard registers the information provided, hastily searching through the remaining plethora of data collected in Whitman’s computer. He manages to locate a file filled with the images that TNN broadcasted last night, and immediately afterwards he finds another email that might be useful.

_Mister Trevor Whitman,_

_After receiving your offer on the 18th of October, we have put much thought and consideration into the proposal. Our board has discussed this situation, and together we have made a collective decision to accept. Our company will contact you as soon as possible, so please remain patient while the due process is taken care of. We would like to personally thank you for your interest, and we hope to see you soon._

_For the time being, I would suggest that the situation not be mentioned to anyone involved with your current employer. At KNN, we strive for dignity and vigilance._

_Thank you,_

_Timothy Richardson._

     Richard is able to connect the provided signature with one of KNN’s employees. The man holds KNN’s title of Chief Operations Officer, although planning to retire from his position within three months; Trevor Whitman expected to fill the position. There are no files detailing whether or not TNN is aware of this. Richard assumes that the company has not been notified, which means his knowledge of the offer could be helpful. He registers the sound of approaching footsteps, so he quickly jumps away from the computer. He plops down on the chair in front of Whitman’s desk, hastily folding one leg over the other as he rests his hands in his lap. The door leading out of the room swings open as soon as he relaxes.

     “Oh,” Whitman says as he registers the unexpected presence, “Can I help you?” Richard cranes his neck around to meet gazes with the stranger. Trevor Whitman is a tall, lean man with light brown skin covered in freckles. His black hair is kept very short, as well as his beard. His brown eyes are flecked with gold, and when he smiles he reveals a row of almost perfect teeth, the canine on the right side of his mouth replaced with a golden cap. He’s an attractive man, but there’s something off about his presence. Richard can’t explain why, but the man makes him feel uncomfortable. The stranger’s glittering gaze leaves him uneasy, his toothy smile looking unnaturally excited as his lips split into a crooked grin. Richard shifts his weight and averts his eyes, trying his best to shake off the sensation. He glances up as the well-dressed man walks past him, stepping around the desk.

     “My name is Gregory Talbot,” Richard says in his normal voice, doing nothing but lowering his pitch to make himself less recognizable. The name is entirely made-up, but he knows the man won’t know well enough to question it. He manages to muster a somewhat convincing smile, relaxing his clenched fist as he unfolds his legs. He places his feet flat on the ground and leans forward, clasping his hands between his knees.

     “I work directly under Richardson,” Richard continues, “Who I’m certain you know as the Chief Operations Officer at Key News Network.” He looks up at Whitman, who seems to be more interested in his phone than he is the man in front of him. He looks up from the small screen and raises his brow, apologizing before he asks the android to repeat himself. Richard does as told, and the man quickly perks up.

     “ _Fantastic_ ,” He replies, “I’ve been wondering when I would finally receive a visit. I must admit that you’ve certainly gone out of your way to make this meeting inconvenient; I’ve got an interview with that gorgeous young woman who found poor James.” There’s excitement in his eyes as soon as he mentions the woman, his lips spreading into a perverted smirk as he describes her. Richard’s first reaction is to give him a look of disgust, but he has to force himself not to react. He manages to maintain his friendly demeanor, chuckling lightly. He knows that he has to get some sort of information out of the man in front of him, so he quickly changes the subject, his expression dropping as he gets serious.

     “Speaking of,” He says as he leans back and crosses his arms in mock irritation, “The fact that you let them air those photographs last night has everyone at the studio on edge.” He tries to put himself into the shoes of someone employed by KNN, attempting to sound as natural as possible while he pretends to be concerned. “I’ll admit I’m here for two reasons: Richardson sent me to discuss your future role at KNN, but before we can even consider that, we need to talk about the fact that you’re a media editor who basically allowed your competitor to get their hands on pictures that could give our company a lot of trouble. You’re aware that we’ve done everything we can to keep the details quiet, aren’t you?” He uses his current knowledge to formulate a conversation that he’s certain will come off as believable. It’s well-known that KNN is refusing to cooperate with police, and the legal message in Whitman’s email proves that the company is displeased with his actions. Trevor doesn’t sense anything out of place, convinced by the android’s commentary. He sighs heavily, gently sitting his phone on the desk as he stuffs his hands into his pockets. Richard attempts to look at the screen, but it goes black before he has a chance to view whatever is displayed.

     “Well,” Whitman says as he takes a deep breath and grins, “That’s the point, isn’t it? You and I both know the real reason Bill gave me that offer. I'm just making sure she can see how much... _influence_ I can have.” Richard has no idea what the man is referring to, so he just nods complacently. His brow furrows slightly, but he refrains from asking any unnecessary questions.

     "And I really didn't appreciate those threats from your lawyers," Whitman continues, "I mean, come on. You do realize what's at risk here, don't you? I could have leaked the whole story, so you _should_ be _thanking_ me. Wouldn't want everyone to know the real reason James was attacked, would we?"


End file.
